July 2013

07/31/2013

In my
last blog post I mentioned how last week I purchased a novel based on my distant
recollection of a review I had read about it. I don’t remember where I saw the
review, but it was likely in one of the
more highly respected sources, The Los
Angeles Times, The Wall Street Journal or the New York Times (I don’t normally
read USA Today, but that’s a good place to get a review, too). I did a little
research into getting reviews. There is a lot to know.

Everyone
wants reviews in the premier forums, but it’s not easy. Reviewers from these
publications are inundated with requests. Books are mailed to them every day.
Reviews at this level most often come from an agent or a publicist that has a
connection, or an author who has a track record.

This is an
area to consider if you decide to work with a publicist. What sorts of connections
do they have with reviewers and what has their success rate been in the past.

If you are
one of those rare few writers who finds themselves being pursued by more than
one agent or publisher, this is a factor you should weigh in your decision. All
other things being equal, which one has the better success rate with reviewers? How many copies is the publisher betting aside for reviewers?

Another
forum for reviews that plays heavily into many buying decisions is Amazon. Think
about it. How many times have you checked out the reviews on Amazon before
making the buying decision? Amazon actually ranks their reviewers, and as is
usual these days, they are ranked by mysterious algorithms that no one understands.

We will talk
about Amazon reviews in a future blog post. Keep a lookout.

07/28/2013

I had lunch
with a good friend of mine a few days ago, someone who until recently was in
the publishing industry with a smaller press. She and her employer, however,
had to make the tough business decision.
There’s no way this business model
will continue to work.

For my
friend, it was, “Hello, unemployment.”

At lunch she
made an observation that I have heard her make before. I paraphrase: There are
too many books chasing too few readers.

So the
question is, how do we get our books to rise to the top?

Flash ahead
to yesterday and my weekly pilgrimage to CostCo. I picked up the 40-roll pack
of toilet paper, the printer ink cartridges, and the 24-pack of AA batteries—among
other necessities. Then I made my obligatory cruise past the book table.

It was the
standard fair, the same top twenty or thirty authors. Then I came across a
title that looked vaguely familiar—Tell
the Wolves I’m Home by Carol Rifka Brunt. I’m not sure why I picked it up.
The cover is not particularly dynamic. There was a quote from Oprah’s magazine,
but I’ve been disappointed by that source in the past so I don’t put too much
into it. There was a CostCo Bookshelf Buyer’s Pick sticker. That might have had
something to do with it. There was also the quote from the Wall Street Journal,
“Tremendously moving.” Okay, if a book was able to make America’s business
newspaper remember it had a heart, that might be worth a read.

Then I read
the back cover blurb and something ticked. Somewhere, someplace, I read a
review of this book. I don’t remember where, but I remembered it and I
remembered it was favorable. The book made it into my cart, right next to a bag
of dog food so big that when I bought it I remember thinking that I hope out
dog lives long enough to finish it (He probably will; he’s only four).

So there it
is, I bought a novel based on a review.

Connect this
story to a conversation I had with a modestly published novelist earlier this
year. Her fourth novel was on the shelves. I’d seen favorable reviews of it in
the Los Angeles Times, the New Work Times and mention in the Wall Street
Journal. “How did you get those reviews?” I asked. “I’m not sure,” she
answered. I was flummoxed. As writers we are entrepreneurs. We need to know how
to get these things done. There are a lucky few of us who will find our way to
the New York publisher, the big guys with budgets and connections, but many of
us will be with smaller presses. Many of us will fund our own book tours. We
need to know how to do these things.

07/26/2013

Writing is like golf. Just about the time you think you have reached a level of proficiency, someone or something comes along and blasts you out of the water with a new way of thinking. I read this article this morning, and it happened to me again. It's frustrating, and one of the reasons I love it, both golf and writing. BTW, this is reposted from Culture Porn.

In six seconds, you’ll hate me.But in six months, you’ll be a better writer.

From this point forward—at least for the next half year—you may not use “thought” verbs. These include: Thinks, Knows, Understands, Realizes, Believes, Wants, Remembers, Imagines, Desires, and a hundred others you love to use.

The list should also include: Loves and Hates.

And it should include: Is and Has, but we’ll get to those later.

Until some time around Christmas, you can’t write: Kenny wondered if Monica didn’t like him going out at night…”

Instead, you’ll have to Un-pack that to something like: “The mornings after Kenny had stayed out, beyond the last bus, until he’d had to bum a ride or pay for a cab and got home to find Monica faking sleep, faking because she never slept that quiet, those mornings, she’d only put her own cup of coffee in the microwave. Never his.”

Instead of characters knowing anything, you must now present the details that allow the reader to know them. Instead of a character wanting something, you must now describe the thing so that the reader wants it.

Instead of saying: “Adam knew Gwen liked him.” You’ll have to say: “Between classes, Gwen had always leaned on his locker when he’d go to open it. She’d roll her eyes and shove off with one foot, leaving a black-heel mark on the painted metal, but she also left the smell of her perfume. The combination lock would still be warm from her butt. And the next break, Gwen would be leaned there, again.”

In short, no more short-cuts. Only specific sensory detail: action, smell, taste, sound, and feeling.

Typically, writers use these “thought” verbs at the beginning of a paragraph (In this form, you can call them “Thesis Statements” and I’ll rail against those, later). In a way, they state the intention of the paragraph. And what follows, illustrates them.

For example:

“Brenda knew she’d never make the deadline. Traffic was backed up from the bridge, past the first eight or nine exits. Her cell phone battery was dead. At home, the dogs would need to go out, or there would be a mess to clean up. Plus, she’d promised to water the plants for her neighbor…”

Do you see how the opening “thesis statement” steals the thunder of what follows? Don’t do it.If nothing else, cut the opening sentence and place it after all the others. Better yet, transplant it and change it to: Brenda would never make the deadline.

Thinking is abstract. Knowing and believing are intangible. Your story will always be stronger if you just show the physical actions and details of your characters and allow your reader to do the thinking and knowing. And loving and hating.

Don’t tell your reader: “Lisa hated Tom.”

Instead, make your case like a lawyer in court, detail by detail.

Present each piece of evidence. For example:

“During roll call, in the breath after the teacher said Tom’s name, in that moment before he could answer, right then, Lisa would whisper-shout ‘Butt Wipe,’ just as Tom was saying, ‘Here’.”

One of the most-common mistakes that beginning writers make is leaving their characters alone. Writing, you may be alone. Reading, your audience may be alone. But your character should spend very, very little time alone. Because a solitary character starts thinking or worrying or wondering.

For example: Waiting for the bus, Mark started to worry about how long the trip would take…”

A better break-down might be: “The schedule said the bus would come by at noon, but Mark’s watch said it was already 11:57. You could see all the way down the road, as far as the Mall, and not see a bus. No doubt, the driver was parked at the turn-around, the far end of the line, taking a nap. The driver was kicked back, asleep, and Mark was going to be late. Or worse, the driver was drinking, and he’d pull up drunk and charge Mark seventy-five cents for death in a fiery traffic accident…”

A character alone must lapse into fantasy or memory, but even then you can’t use “thought” verbs or any of their abstract relatives.

Oh, and you can just forget about using the verbs Forget and Remember.

No more transitions such as: “Wanda remembered how Nelson used to brush her hair.”

Instead: “Back in their sophomore year, Nelson used to brush her hair with smooth, long strokes of his hand.”

Again, Un-pack. Don’t take short-cuts.

Better yet, get your character with another character, fast. Get them together and get the action started. Let their actions and words show their thoughts. You—stay out of their heads.

And while you’re avoiding “thought” verbs, be very wary about using the bland verbs “is” and “have.”

For example:

“Ann’s eyes are blue.”

“Ann has blue eyes.”

Versus:

“Ann coughed and waved one hand past her face, clearing the cigarette smoke from her eyes, blue eyes, before she smiled…”

Instead of bland “is” and “has” statements, try burying your details of what a character has or is, in actions or gestures. At its most basic, this is showing your story instead of telling it.And forever after, once you’ve learned to Un-pack your characters, you’ll hate the lazy writer who settles for: “Jim sat beside the telephone, wondering why Amanda didn’t call.”

Please. For now, hate me all you want, but don’t use thought verbs. After Christmas, go crazy, but I’d bet money you won’t.

(…)

For this month’s homework, pick through your writing and circle every “thought” verb. Then, find some way to eliminate it. Kill it by Un-packing it.

Then, pick through some published fiction and do the same thing. Be ruthless.

“Marty imagined fish, jumping in the moonlight…”

“Nancy recalled the way the wine tasted…”

“Larry knew he was a dead man…”

Find them. After that, find a way to re-write them. Make them stronger.

07/24/2013

Last week I
gave hard copies of Rules for Giving to two people who have yet to read it.

Why am I
still giving my novel to beta readers? Because I think they have something—a unique
perspective or insight—that I have yet to get from another beta reader.

One of the
beta readers is the mother of a good friend of mine who lives across the
country. I’ve met her a few times. I’ve heard his stories about his mother and
the English language in their house as he grew up. The fact that she spent her
career as a copy editor for the FDIC probably does not hurt, either, although I
don’t want the novel to read like a financial assessment of the economy. Am I
concerned that the language is too much for an eight-five-year-old woman? Not
really, especially after I learned that one of her favorite acronyms is AFLL—another
fucking life lesson.

My other
beta reader is a woman I went to grammar school and high school with. From
first through eighth grade we were in the same class together at a Catholic
school. In one of those later in life twists of fate, she and her husband now
own a Mexican restaurant that I drive past at least once a week (I occasionally
drop in). She remains a devout Catholic (unlike me). Since my novel touches on
abortion, it will be interesting to get her input.

In The
World According to Garp by John Irving, the hero, T.S. Garp, has a publisher
who has his own personal beta reader. She is Jillsey Whopper, the cleaning lady
in his office. Jillsey, he has discovered over the years, is every reader. Her tastes in contemporary
literature go directly to the mainstream. She might not have even had a high
school education, but if Jillsey liked a novel, then it was a bestseller. He
may publish it otherwise, but he learned that Jillsey was an accurate meter of
novels that made it big.

07/22/2013

The blog post today has nothing to do with writing, but it’s
an interesting story.

Some background. I did not follow the Trayvon Martin—George Zimmerman
case that closely. I don’t know much, other than if an African-American man on a
neighborhood watch team had killed a white teenage boy, it would be a different
matter. I was on vacation during the trial and unaware of the events. The
verdict came back two days after my return and I was still very much in
decompression mode. The blowback was expected, and indeed it is probably
justified.

The second piece of background is an observation fellow
writer Rich Luftig makes about teenagers. 1) Teenagers don’t like to be
embarrassed. 2) Everything you do as a parent embarrasses them.

Cut to a week later, this past Saturday afternoon. I’m in
line at the self-check-out kiosk at a well-known chain store. There are four
kiosks, and whenever these are present I find it an excellent place to watch
people. Generally one line forms and those in the line go to the kiosk that
becomes available next. Sometimes, the line will morph into individual lines
for each kiosk. Then, for reasons often hard to determine, the line will
combine back into one. If you are in line you have be careful. Some folks get
upset if they perceive that you cut the line. At this chain store, though, the
line for the self-check-out kiosks is generally treated as one line.

I am in line for the next open kiosk.

One my right an African-American girl of about fourteen
walked past and moved into line for the kiosk that looked as if it will vacate
soon. As the teenager in my house would say, she jacked my spot.

I know something from raising teenagers, though. There are
some battles you fight, and others you let go. This is one I will let go.
First, it’s not the end of the world, and second, there’s the whole Trayvon
Martin race thing and yes, I am feeling sensitive to it.

Only a few seconds have passed, and then a male voice right behind
me called a name. The girl looked around and the voice said, “The line starts
here, right behind this man.” I turned and there is a man, obviously her
father, standing behind me.

“This one is just about to open up,” said the girl.

“The line starts here,” said dad, this time with a voice
that says, Do what I say.

The girl sneered, rolled her eyes, and walked back to join
her father, standing as far away as she could and still be with him. I should
say that her actions had nothing to do with her race and all to do with being a
teenager. I know all about teenagers, I’ve raised a number of them. I recognize
the behavior.

Still, though, this situation had the added dimension of
race. I’m a middle-aged white man and the girl and her father are
African-American, and he’s about ten or fifteen years younger than me. As a
card-carrying liberal and guilty white person, I feel I have to acknowledge
what happened.

After a period of time that was probably too long, I turned to
the father and said, “These lines can get tricky.” His response was something
about lines and teenagers and manners. We were on the same wavelength.

A few minutes later I was driving through the parking lot
and the father and daughter are walking out. Again, she is as far away as she
can be. Typical teenager stuff.

Other people, be they liberal or conservative, might have
handled this situation differently. What I wished I could have said to the
father was, “Hey, it’s okay. I understand. This is a teenage thing. Race has
nothing to do with it.”

I know a woman, more liberal and me, who would have called
the girl on it, but she would have done it in a mock incredulity that would
have disarmed the situation.

I guess what was important was that I acknowledge the
situation with her father in a way that we were both okay with, and we realized
it had nothing to do with race.

By the way, catch this rant by comedian Louis C.K. about race. Interesting in hear a white man's perspective.

07/19/2013

One of the
great things about being a writer is that everything that happens is material
for a story. The
actual event may not be a story, but in our minds we can make
a few changes, add or delete a character, change the time frame, and we have a
story.

I love it.

It’s also a
problem for our spouses. In the middle of a family reunion, a trip to the
emergency hospital, or recollecting a tumultuous time in your marriage, the
writer half of the marriage is thinking, This
would make a great story.

Last week I
had to go to urgent care at the hospital. It turned out to be nothing, but it
required a blood test to verify it. I sat alone in the empty lobby reading a
book (another good part of being a writer: we are easy entertained), waiting on
the results, and in comes the janitor. My immediate fear was that he was a
talker, which was confirmed within minutes. But the conversation has been in my
head ever since. I can’t shake it. There’s a story in there.

Last night
we were at an outdoor concert and I was revisiting the encounter as I listened
to a selection of live Irish folk music. I must have been staring into the void
because my wife punched me in the shoulder.

“What’s wrong with you?” she
asked.

“Nothing. I was thinking about
something.”

“Something’s wrong with you.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Look buddy, I’ve been married to you a long
time. I know when something is wrong. You’ve been like this all week.”

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“You’re thinking about a story
again, aren’t you? I hate when that happens.”

There is
also the other frequent conversation in our house.

"Honey, did you get the ____________ when you
were at the market?” (Insert any suitable item. The last time this happened to
me, it was ginger ale.)

“I don’t remember you asking me
to get ginger ale.”

“I asked you and you said you
would add it to the list.”

“You know I’m working on a story. If you want
me to remember something you need to paste it to my forehead.”

“I’d rather staple it.”

Welcome to
the writer’s head. It can be a scary place to be, and often frustrating for our
spouses.